Rescue Blues
by Ineffabilitea
Summary: Aziraphale brings back Black. Harry Potter crossover.


_Please note that some lines at the beginning of this story are directly borrowed from _Good Omens_._

"Ah, Australia. Oh dear. Well, thank you anyway."

Aziraphale moved on, concentrating on finding another human who, in attempting to open his mind to the "spirit world", had left his body open for Aziraphale to occupy. iEngland, England, he thought desperately, as he took the metaphorical leap into a new body…

…And found himself staring at nothing. Not just something rather dull, like a brick wall, but an immense, grey, absolute nothing.

"Excuse me, but where am I?" he tentatively inquired. He had a suspicion he already knew, but it just shouldn't be possible.

His body jumped, startled. " _What the hell? Who said that? Is somebody else here? _"

The voice had a familiar accent, but if Aziraphale was where he suspected, that was of little importance. "iI said that. I'm, well, an angel, temporarily inhabiting your body in order to help avert the apocalypse."

He snorted. "_ Sure. And how can I help you do that from here, exactly? _"

"Do you know where here is?" Aziraphale asked.

" _The other side of the bloody Veil,_ " he replied morosely.

Bugger. Just as Aziraphale had suspected, though the question of exactly how a human had made it into Limbo with his mortal body intact was still unanswered. "Well, I really am terribly sorry about that," he replied, "but I'm afraid there's not much I can do about it at the moment, as it's very important that I find my way to England. The world could be ending as we speak."

" _Oh, don't mind me_, " he replied cuttingly, " _I'll just go on being dead, then, angel._ "

Upon being addressed as 'angel' in sarcastic tones, Aziraphale thought immediately of Crowley. What was the demon doing? He hoped he had got the message and was on his way to Lower Tadfield. "You're not dead," he replied.

"_ I'm not?_ " The man seemed genuinely surprised.

"Certainly not, my dear boy. Now, I really must move on, but, assuming my endeavour is a success, I will do everything in my power to return and help you in your … situation-" he paused, realizing he didn't know whose body he was inhabiting.

" _Sirius,_ " he replied. " _Sirius Black._ "

* * *

Aziraphale broached the subject over dinner at the Ritz a few weeks after the Apocalypse failed to happen.

"It's out of the question," said Crowley, toying with his wine glass.

"It's not as if you haven't done it before," Aziraphale countered.

"The circumstances were different."

Aziraphale tried another argument. "There are benefits for you, my dear."

"And how do you figure that, angel?"

"It _has_ been centuries since you discorporated me personally, you know. And you've been so on edge ever since recent events, convinced your people don't trust you; what better way to show that you're trustworthy than by slaying me?"

Crowley snorted. "It's Hell – they don't trust anybody; it's policy. And I'm so pleased to hear that you've thought out the ramifications of this stunt for _me_ so thoroughly."

"What do you mean by that?"

"I mean you haven't exactly been secure in your heavenly standing these past few months, either. What makes you so sure your people will give you a new body once I've killed this one?"

"Oh, I don't want a new body," Aziraphale replied, taking a sip of wine. "At least, not right away."

* * *

Working out the details of his most recent slaying at the demon's hands had taken far longer than he'd anticipated. Piqued by Aziraphale's maddening vagueness ('Even more maddening than usual!' he'd said), Crowley had refused to just be a dear and take him back to the bookshop and stab him or shoot him or poison him. Aziraphale had been hoping to keep it simple.

Instead, Crowley had insisted on concocting an elaborate scenario, complete with a back-story which saw both of them receiving rather more press attention than Aziraphale was comfortable with, before the _coup de grace_ could be delivered.

Of course, when the moment came, it ultimately was just Aziraphale and Crowley, in the bookshop, with a knife.

"You sure about this?" Crowley asked for the tenth time.

"Quite sure, my dear."

"And you'll be back?"

"As soon as I can. Now, could you, er, get on with it?"

Crowley nodded. "Now, this will be easier from behind," he explained as he moved, "and with a knife this sharp it shouldn't hurt. Much. Shouldn't hurt much."

Aziraphale was about to say "I understand" when Crowley neatly and swiftly slit his throat from ear to ear.

* * *

First things first: fight the tug towards heaven, and specifically towards the bureaucratic offices where (at least under standard procedure) he'd be issued a new body. There'd be time to worry about a new body for himself later, though he had only the foggiest idea of how he might obtain one (outside of the usual way).

Now, though, it was time to find Sirius, and with a specific name to focus on, it was easy; a few moments concentration, and he was once again contemplating a featureless void.

"Hello again," he said, trying to sound cheery.

There was a long pause before Sirius replied. "_Done saving the world, then, angel?_ "

"Oh yes. Er, call me Aziraphale. And yes, yes, apocalypse safely averted."

Sirius seemed to cheer up a bit at the news, as well he might. "_So Harry defeated Voldemort, then?_ "

"What?" That was a question he'd in no way anticipated. "That is to say, I don't believe anyone by those names was involved, though I suppose one of Adam's little friends might be a Harry—"

"_Nevermind, Aziraphale. Sounds like whichever apocalypse it was you stopped, it wasn't the one I was thinking of._ "

"There's really only supposed to be one—" Aziraphale broke off, uncertain there was any point in clarifying, especially given the ineffable fact that even the one scheduled end of the world hadn't gone off as planned.

"_And you've come back to rescue me. _" Sirius didn't sound very optimistic about the possibility.

"Not so much _rescue _you as, well, return you to where you belong. I've no idea how you managed to end up in Limbo with a corporal form, but it should be no trouble at all getting you out."

"_I came through the Veil, _" Sirius said. "_Really, no trouble at all? I've tried everything I can think of. _"

"I'm an angel, I can think of things you can't," Aziraphale explained. "What do you mean, you came through a veil?" He wondered if perhaps Sirius had said 'vale', but that didn't make much more sense.

"_Not a veil, **the **Veil. The one at the Ministry._ "

"The Ministry?" Aziraphale inquired, not much enlightened.

"_The Ministry of Magic,_" Sirius replied impatiently. "_I thought you said you were an angel, not a Muggle._ "

* * *

"_Crowley, open the door._ " That was definitely the angel's voice, and Crowley felt himself relax almost imperceptibly. The world just wasn't the same without Aziraphale in it, especially these days.

"Do you have a problem with knocking, angel?" he asked as he approached the door. "It's only polite, you know, and I thought your side was all for good manners."

"_Just open the door, Crowley, please? I—you'll see. _"

Intrigued, Crowley opened the door. There was no one there.

Half a second later, he looked down and noticed the large black dog sitting patiently on the mat, looking far more like a hellhound than the only actual hellhound of Crowley's acquaintance.

"_Thank you, Crowley,_ " the dog said with Aziraphale's voice. "_May we come in? _"

"Oh, this I have to hear," Crowley muttered as he stood aside to let the dog pass.

"_There's not much to tell, really, _" the dog replied as it padded into his kitchen, Crowley on its tail. "_While searching for a body to co-inhabit here in England during recent … events, I discovered Sirius here in Limbo, but he still had his body, a circumstance I found bizarre, and of course I couldn't just leave him there, so with your help I returned. And it turns out Sirius is a wizard, and that he found his way into Limbo through some sort of Veil, and since the wizarding world falls under your half of the Arrangement, here we are. I don't suppose you'd get us a bowl of water, could you, my dear? Sirius is terribly parched. _"

Crowley didn't move. Answers first. "Why is Sirius a dog?"

"_Because he's an Animagus. _"

The dog didn't look inclined to offer further clarification. It just panted, and it did look rather thirsty. Not feeling particularly demonic, Crowley turned to get a bowl from the cupboard.

"Allow me to rephrase that. Why is Sirius a dog_ now_ ?" he asked as he turned on the tap to fill the bowl.

Now another voice spoke, hoarse and rusty with disuse. "I had to transfigure all of my clothing into food and water while I was … stuck," it explained, and Crowley spun around, water sloshing out of the bowl, to the sight of a very naked man in the middle of his kitchen. Sirius' body was much the worse for wear, but still….

"_Nice_, angel," Crowley said, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.

"_I knew you'd take it this way,_ " Aziraphale muttered.

"You're naked in my kitchen, Aziraphale, what other way should I have taken it?"

"If you two don't mind, maybe you have some clothes I could borrow?" Sirius asked, looking bemused.

"I think that if you look in the bedroom, you'll find something your size laid out on the bed," Crowley said, and he would. No way was the demon letting the bedraggled specimen before him near his own bespoke suits. "Oh, and feel free to shower."

He'd tried to keep his tone curt, even rude, but Sirius still gave him a grateful look and a terribly sincere "Thank you."

"Now look what you've made me do, Aziraphale," Crowley said. "I'm helping the needy." He made a face.

"_Charity is a virtue, my dear._ "

"My point precisely."

* * *

Aziraphale frowned at the rather Spartan contents of Crowley's shower, and added a nice loofah, some moisturizing soap and a better razor. You'd think a being as dedicated to vanity as Crowley would have a few more creature comforts in the bathroom.

"_So, this is weird ,_" Sirius remarked as he lathered his hair for the third time.

" What's weird? You'll have to narrow it down for me, I'm afraid."

"_This_, " Sirius clarified, not very satisfactorily, waving his hands and the loofah at the body they were sharing.

"Sharing is certainly awkward, but—"

"_Oh, I'm almost used to having you in here with me by now. I meant, it's weird having your boyfriend ogle me—_ "

"He's not— Were you not listening when I told you I'm angel?" Aziraphale asked plaintively as Sirius toweled off. "Crowley is just a … colleague."

"_Another angel?_ "

"Not exactly." Aziraphale paused to let Sirius brush his teeth. Not that he needed to use Sirius' mouth to speak, as the conversation while a dog had shown, but he did feel it was more polite to wait.

"_So, if he's not exactly and angel, then—_ "

"He's a demon."

"_Oh_. " Sirius blinked. "_Wait, haven't you been saying we had to see Crowley because he was in charge of wizards and witches?_ " He sounded suspicious.

"Not so much 'in charge of' as keeping an eye on, really," Aziraphale explained nervously. "Neither of us can be really be said to be in charge of anything, we're just representatives."

"_You left a demon to look after all of wizarding England? _" Sirius shouted.

"He's very trustworthy, for a demon. We have an Arrangement," Aziraphale offered.

"_Trustworthy, is he?_ " Sirius' tone was icy.

"And it made sense at the time, since my people wanted you all burned at the stake as heretics and all. It seemed, er, a natural division."

"_If you weren't in my own body I'd hit you right now,_ " Sirius spluttered. "_Do you have any idea what that demon of yours has let happen to us?_ "

Sirius was genuinely upset, and Aziraphale realized this was quite serious. "No, I don't," he answered. "But why don't you tell me about it."

* * *

An hour later, Crowley was still waiting for Sirius and the angel to emerge. There had been quite a bit of shouting; hopefully they hadn't hurt themselves.

He was just wondering if offering Sirius a scotch would count as charity or temptation, and had just about concluded that either way, if he was damned for a penny he might as well be damned for a pound, when the pair emerged, the look on their face murderous.

"Does the name Voldemort ring any bells, asshole?" Sirius spat.

"_From what Sirius tells me, this Voldemort is a very evil wizard, Crowley. Letting him run rampant would be a serious breech of the Arrangement, _" Aziraphale added.

Crowley winced. "I know, it was just—" Just that Crowley didn't like to think about the really evil ones, the ones who really got into and murdered children and split their souls into tiny little pieces. They creeped him out, frankly. Even the snake thing didn't help. "They seemed to be handling it well on their own. Good people fought back – you'd have been proud, angel – and then a baby defeated him, for crying out loud! The situation was under control."

"Leaving aside the fact that my godson should never have had to face him, even once, should never have had to lose his parents, what about when _Voldemort came back_ ?" Sirius roared.

"There was an apocalypse scheduled." Crowley shrugged. "I didn't see how it mattered when the world was about to end anyway." Something about what Sirius had just said clicked. "Oh hey, did you say Harry Potter was your godson? You're _that_ Sirius Black? I got a commendation for you."

Now Sirius looked murderous and confused. "What do you mean, you got a commendation for me?"

"From Hell." Crowley clarified. "For inspiring you to evil, evil acts of mass murder."

"What? Of all the idiotic things I ever— I didn't even do it!"

"That's pretty typical," Crowley noted, and drained his glass.

Aziraphale finally spoke up again. "_While I suppose I can acknowledge the circumstances that kept you from getting involved before, don't you think that now that the world is not going to end, we might want to do something about this Voldemort character?_ "

Crowley didn't want to do anything about Voldemort other than stay far, far away from him, but he doubted the angel, or Sirius, would see it his way. "We could go see the boy," he suggested.

"Harry?" Sirius asked, hope wavering in his voice.

"Well, eventually, no doubt. But I meant Adam," Crowley replied.

"_Do you really think we need to involve him?_ " Aziraphale asked.

"Judging by what was in this morning's Daily Prophet, I think we might need his help. Besides, how else were you planning to get out of Sirius' body?"

"Wait, you get the Prophet? What's been happening?" Sirius asked. "Also, who's Adam?"

"Yes, since the wizarding world fell to me under the Arrangement, of course I read the Prophet. I have to keep up somehow. As for Adam, well, he's—"

"_He's the Antichrist, but he's a really a very dear young man, underneath it all, I think, _" Aziraphale put in.

"Is he a dear young man the way the demon here is trustworthy?" Sirius muttered.

"_Something like that, yes,_ " Aziraphale said, apparently oblivious to or deliberately ignoring the sarcasm in Sirius' tone.

"Well then, by all means, let's go talk to your Antichrist."

* * *

"You're two people again. You know, you're s'posed to learn from your mistakes, at least that's what my dad says."

Aziraphale had just spent the drive down to Lower Tadfield as the only occupant of the Bentley who was not eager to go 'Faster!' or wondering 'Could we make this thing fly, d'you think?' and he was in no shape to deal with Adam-logic, but he tried his best. "It wasn't a mistake this time. I did it on purpose, to help someone."

Adam frowned at this. "Helpin' people's alright. I'm all for it, but you oughta have a better plan to fix things than comin' to me. It's not my job."

"_Does that mean you're not going to fix us? _" Sirius asked. "_I don't want to be stuck with this angel for the rest of my life; it's not my fault! _"

Adam nodded. "Messin' you about," he said. "I'm sorry 'bout that. I told 'em not to, but these two keep right at it anyway."

"Old habits die hard," Crowley offered with a shrug.

"This is the last time," Adam warned, looking put upon.

"I promise," Aziraphale said, and there was a mouth moving along with the words, and a whole body – his whole body – standing alongside Sirius and Crowley. "Thank you."

"Yes, thank you," Sirius echoed. "Now, about Voldemort—"

Adam looked grave. "I can't fix that for you."

"Can't or won't?" Sirius asked, frustratedly.

"Doesn't matter. The way I see it is, you need to let people be people. No messin' 'em about. So people'll have to fix this Voldemort fellow themselves." He sighed. "I _wish_ I could help, it sounds awfully exciting. Wish I had a wand and could do magic things."

Crowley snorted. Adam ignored him.

"So you should go help your friends. I think that'd be the right thing for you to do. But I can't help them, 'cause they aren't my friends, so I'd just be messin' 'em about, if you see what I mean."

"Yes," Sirius replied, "I think I do." He drew his wand from his pocket. "Aziraphale, Crowley, it was … interesting to meet you. Thanks for rescuing me from the Veil, and for the shower and the clothes."

"Don't mention it," Crowley said sincerely.

"Good luck, Sirius," Aziraphale added.

"I'll need it," he said, and with a crack he disappeared.

"Well, I have to go, I'm s'posed to be cleaning my room," Adam said, and took off at a run. The angel and the demon watched him leave.

"Get in the car, angel," Crowley said. "We've a long drive back to London. Unless—"

"Oh, don't you dare, Crowley!" Aziraphale said, wishing the Bentley had seat belts so he could fasten his extremely tightly.

"Hang on," Crowley called, and with a sickening lurch the Bentley rose into the air.

They flew the whole way back to London, and Aziraphale only helped a little.


End file.
